Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Another guest post. LS went camping this past weekend. That is like Yours Truly going camping. We are Indoor Girls. We don't really do hard core outdoor adventures. Unless someone drags us. Lady Starfish's boyfriend, J, suckered her into this misery last weekend...

"I know how much you love lists so I thought I would break down my vacation into a list for you!

87,000 – The number of miles it felt like I traveled to get to this camping spot. We went to Smithfield, Virginia. Actually, I got off work at six p.m. and we left a.s.a.p. We then drove three and a half hours to Martinsville, Virginia (where his parents live). We arrived there around 11:00 p.m. Then we got in the R.V. and took off along with his parents. We arrived at our destination at five a.m.

43 – The number of mosquito bites I received from sitting outside near a river where mosquitoes migrate. They are all over me. I have one on my knee that somehow blistered. It is gross. They covered J as well.

19 – The number of gallons I sweated this weekend due to extremely humid temperatures and the fact that the air conditioning broke in the RV on Saturday. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was 135 degrees outside….in the shade. I swear my clothes fit looser since I came back due to how much I have sweated. I think I am permanently dehydrated. HA!

60 – The number of hours it felt that I slept this weekend. There was literally nothing to do there. It wasn’t even a campground. It was a dock in the middle of no where. There were two other couples besides us. They consisted of a 60 year old couple who were the funniest older people ever. And a forty year old couple that was nice but the wife was weird. I think she had an eating disorder. She refused to eat. Whatever. I helped myself to multiple portions of food at every meal.

155 – The number of degrees it felt like it was inside the RV. The air conditioning worked Saturday night for a while but then stopped. C (J’s dad) had it working for a short time on Sunday but it died again 20 minutes later. We were so hot and miserable on Sunday afternoon that we decided to go ahead and go back to J’s mom and step-dad’s house. That included the 4 hour trip with no air conditioning.

1 – The number of tickets we got on the way back. A state trooper gave C&C (the rents) a ticket because they forgot to get their inspection sticker updated….oops. Public Service Announcement from VB: Do NOT mess with Virginia State Troopers. They are assholes. You cannot--I repeat--cannot get out of tickets with these guys. So never ever ever speed in Virginia. And make sure your decals are all squared away before driving there.

53 million – The number of times I was annoyed with J this weekend. He got on this kick that he wanted me to go fishing with him. I had told him all week that I had no desire to go. So then of course he takes me to Wal-Mart to the gun and tackle department to get me a fishing license. Cecil – the weird Christian guy who waited on us – asked me how many days I wanted to have it. I asked him if I could just have a license by the hour. That should tell you that I don’t want to go. J pesters me continuously about it anyway. I agree to go out on the dock with him to fish on Saturday night. I was thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be cool if I came out here and caught some huge fish and everyone would be so impressed? That would be the best.’ Instead – the first time I throw the rod out, I end up breaking the reel. I messed up something that had to do the fishing line getting caught in the reel. Oh well.

1 – Number of disgusting smells that I had to smell. They use some sort of “bloody innards” to fish with. It was in a bowl and you had to get it out with a spoon. It stunk and when I say stunk, I mean RANK. Combine that smell with Off Mosquito Repellant, sunscreen and lake water and you have J.

3 – Number of cool boats I got to see while I was there. And just ask me what boats they were??? It was the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria. Have you ever seen them? I am guessing since you are a historian and from Virginia you probably have. They were so cool! It was unbelievable how small they were considering they sailed across the ocean. Which leads me to the next thing I saw…..

1 – The number of snakes I saw while I was there. While we were sitting in the boat looking at Christopher Columbus’ ships, a Water Moccasin swam up to us. It was creepy and gross. But oddly enough, not marinating in tomato sauce. By the way, what is up with your beyond weird dream? That has to be the weirdest dream I have ever heard. First off, I love it that you are behind the deli counter doing your shopping. Then why are you being pressured into eating free samples from the deli worker? It is like you were at a deli from the underworld!

613 bazillion – The number of stupid jokes J had this weekend. He started the new saying, “Why don’t you come over here and give me some sloppy in my mouth” – meaning a kiss. How sweet, huh? He also told me that my breath smelled like a yeast infection. Here are some more fun jokes with J:

We were lying in the bedroom in the RV on the way back home with the windows open and he turns to me and says, “You remind me of the girl in the Exorcist” It was pretty clever because we were lying in a room that was moving and the curtains were blowing everywhere and I was lying on a bed. I told him he reminded me of the priest.

Last weekend we saw the stupid movie “See no Evil”. It is really dumb. Anyway, the guy that kills everybody was always taking his finger and running it down girls’ faces to their chests. J and I thought this was hilarious. So he started re-enacting that part of the movie. Now it is played and just gets on my nerves. So he did that about 3 billion times.

Also, I started saying, “Cee—YA!” when we would get off the phone instead of “I love you.” So now he says it ALL the time. I am so sick of hearing Cee--YA!. He said that about 13 trillion times this weekend.

And he has this stupid new way he kisses me. He looks at me so over-intently that it is weird. Then he slowly takes his hands and runs them through my hair and holds on to it and pulls me toward him. It is just stupid. Then he laughs hysterically about how funny it is. He realizes it is weird and that is what he thinks is so funny.

And for some reason he refers to himself as a “party animal”. I don’t know how. We don’t ever go out.

I told him this weekend that no one I have ever dated as ever managed to get on my nerves, except him. And it is the truth. I love him with all of my heart and I wouldn’t break up for anything in this world, but he irritates the living p*ss out of me sometimes.

Well I guess that is it for now. I will try to email you more in a minute."

"I just read your blog regarding your panty adventure. That is so weird because I found an old strapless bra in my car and I put it in J’s backpack hoping it would fall out while he was at school. I then forgot about it. A week and a half later J annoyingly asked me if I planned to get my bra out of his backpack. He said that he kept pulling it out with his books and would have to put it back in his backpack. Maybe it is because he is such a “party animal” that it didn’t bother him!"

So I'm sitting in class as a college freshman. I was dating College Boyfriend #1 at the time. He lived closer to campus than I and since my class started at 9 am, I found it easier to just spend the night at his house. I would just bring a change of clothes and some toiletries and keep them in my backpack along with my school supplies.

I'm sitting front and center, because I am and always have been the teacher's pet kind of student. [Insert joke about how much of a nerd I am here.] I am listening to the lesson and taking notes diligently. I took my book out of my backpack to follow along.

Everything is going fine. Class is about 3/4 of the way over. I reached down to get something from my backpack when I realized that my dirty panties were on the floor. Dead smack dab in the middle of the floor for everyone to see. My black satin panties with red roses on them. I must have accidentally pulled them out along with some school item. I have no idea how long they were on the floor before I grabbed them and quickly stuffed them back into my backpack. I think I was beet red for the rest of class. If anyone else saw them, they never said a word about it.

Monday, May 29, 2006

Blatantly stolen from Sam. And yes, I visited the website so I didn't feel so bad about it. Very cool site. Will read it.

Felt I had to do this list, considering my current occupation.

Directions: Review the following list of books. Boldface the books you've read, italicize those you might read, cross out the ones you won’t, *put an asterisk beside the ones on your bookshelves*, and [place brackets around the ones you’ve never even heard of.]

Yes, I am so dumb I had to make the directions clearer. Shut up. The list:

Oh man, that was humiliating. I haven't read many of these. I know I am going to catch a lot of flack for the Harry Potter thing, but I just don't do kiddie stuff, ok? I don't like Disneyworld, I don't watch Cartoon Network. I'm sure they're great stories, but they should have been written when I was little. Like the Chronicles of Narnia. Those are awesome.

As far as Curious Incident and Kiterunner are concerned, they just aren't my bag. They seem kind of depressing to me.

And yes, I added the last one.

Don't give me crap about not owning many of these. I am a librarian. I do not believe in paying for books. I believe in getting them for free from your library. And then paying for them in late fines. I occasionally buy books from the sale table at Barnes & Noble. Or steal (I like to use the term "borrow") them from friends.

As a librarian, I am ashamed to see that I haven't heard of some of these. Some sound familiar....and I am familiar with Toni Morrison, I have just never heard of that particular title. What can I say? I'm more of a nonfiction reader. And when I grab fiction, I reach for classics. They make my brain work. Trust me, it's needed.

Trivia fact: I have been thisclose to the typewriter used to write Catch-22. And original unpublished screenplays written in F. Scott Fitzgerald's own hand. They're in the library at University of South Carolina. I took a special course in grad school. Bow before me.If you have read any of the ones in italics, please tell me how they were. I will appreciate it!

Yeah, that's right. I'm at work today. Repo, K and I are the only people in America who have to go to work today. And I'm not happy about this. I'm supposed to be at the pool, eating a burger, smelling like sunscreen. Oh well.

Just as a heads up, this post is kinda boring. It's really just an excuse to put yet another cute photo of my dog out for public display. And so people don't think I'm dead. I will not be offended if you skip this post. But you have to say how cute my dog is first. I mean, come on. Look at those ears for Pete's sake.

K, Navy Guy and I went to the lake yesterday. We had a good time hanging out with her family and eating lunch. Navy Guy and K's cousins played with Sammy all day. Sammy chased the ball for about 4 and a half hours straight. He has little blisters on his paws and has been limping around today! Poor thing. This is a picture of him sitting on my lap at the end of the day. Can you tell how sleepy he is? It was his first time on a boat and he liked it.

He thought it was much better than actually being in the water. Of course, this didn't stop Navy Guy from throwing him into the lake. Several times. It was pretty funny. Sammy is like a crotchety old man when he gets thrown in. He snorts and grunts and shakes it off. Now he smells like lake. Nice.

I burned a compilation CD today. This means I have to make a copy for Repo so he won't steal mine and scratch it all up. He will dub half the songs "Chick Songs" and skip them every time. And I have to make a copy for Brunette because I always do. Has anyone else heard that new Prince track, "Black Sweat"? Well, if you see a young blonde girl in the car next to you today, jamming out to some song you can't hear, it's probably me. That song is awesome. And the dumb Bubba Sparxxx "New Ms. Booty" song is stuck in my head. Booty booty booty booty rockin' everywhere!

Repo and I went with K and Navy Guy to play putt putt golf this weekend. I haven't done that in forever! It was fun. Lots of Happy Gilmore jokes.

Also I started What Should I Do With My Life? by Po Bronson. It is the coolest book, y'all. I highly recommend it. Really neat stories of people who have/are trying to find their purpose in life.Um, that's about it in VB Land. I apologize for being so boring today, but no news is good news, right? I think I will publish my book meme just so you have something semi-interesting to read today!

Thursday, May 25, 2006

1. Today was the day I got the news that my baby brother died. He was 18. Sudden drowning accident. No time to say goodbye. It's the two-year anniversary. If you have been paying attention, he died 8 months before my dad died. There is (obviously) more I can say about this, but I don't want to talk about it any more today.

2. I estimate I have spent between $700-800 on medical bills since March. The good news? My dentist is the BEST EVER. I didn't even feel anything when they filled my cavity today. I almost fell asleep, actually. It was a walk in the park.

3. I need to find a part-time job for some cash! Soon!

4. Sammy needs some discipline stat before he becomes the most obnoctious dog in the neighborhood. Sammy also cost me $800. (If you include the vet bills.)

5. I have to figure out what I'm going to do on my weeklong vacation now that I'm not going to Germany. It has to be free or close-to-free. See #1 and #2 above. Luckily, I have a free domestic round-trip Delta flight. If they cooperate with me this time. Must think of something fun...

6. I'm seriously going to think about a career change and actually do something about it. I'm tired of letting other people make me doubt myself and my goals. I (think) I know what I want to do. Life is too short to wait around. I'm really excited.

7. God, I hope none of my coworkers are still reading this blog. I don't know what they would think about #6.

8. Repo has no idea I keep this blog. He probably wouldn't like it, even though he is totally anonymous here and none of his friends know about this. I don't really know what to do about that because as hard as I try not to talk about my relationship here, it just keeps creeping in. But I am being pretty good at leaving the personal stuff out. There's LOTS I'm not telling you guys. He'd be pretty impressed, actually.

9. I have a grand total of $5.41 in my checking account right now. Oh, and $2.oo in my wallet. I think. Thank God for payday.

10. I haven't been exercising or eating right in about a month. My ass is expanding at the speed of light and soon I won't be able to fit into any of my clothes. Luckily, the doctor told me that I can now take showers (YAY) and go to the gym (YAY) without bothering my ass-wound. I just have to change the band-aid ASAP in those situations. Oh, and I don't have to go to the doctor anymore and get my ass stuffed. This is awesome.

11. I hope I can find some decent rhubarb at the grocery store. I want to bake a pie (in addition to a ton of other stuff, like tapioca pudding) this weekend. Shit, this conflicts directly with #10. And #9.

12. I owe at least $17 at the public library. [Insert irony here. I am a librarian who is blocked from using the library.] What do I really feel like doing this weekend? Reading. Since I'm broke and have no travel plans and don't have Monday off anyway. But that's ok. I have lots of purchased books at my house. Like this one, which I will start tonight.

13. I have about 25 Vicodins left. And no pain as an excuse to use them. I am missing the buzz. For real. I am why this stuff is Rx only. Addiction is my middle name. You'd be like that too if you couldn't drink alcohol and didn't do any drugs. I crave being f--ked up sometimes.

14. (Shut it. This is my blog. If I want 14 in a list of 13, that is my business.) I am sad for K and Navy Guy. This is their last weekend together because he is getting shipped out from Norfolk, VA on June 2nd. He will be gone for 6 months. When he gets back, he will live in Norfolk. They are very sad and I think they will probably end up breaking up. I will miss seeing him. So will Sammy. Nice guy. If he's in town, he cleans our apartment while we are at work. It makes me sad to hear situations like this. There is no way they would break up if it weren't for this little glitch. Six months at sea followed by three years of a seven hour driving distance doesn't look good.

Please do not worry about me. I just re-read this list and it sounds so pessimistic! I am not moping, I promise. I'm actually in a very excited state--I can feel lots of changes coming around the bend. The good, action-packed, making better use of my life kind of changes. Most of my stress is coming from financial stuff right now. And I'm lucky that is the main source, because I can do something about it. I have my health back mostly (finally!) and that is really important. So is the fact that no one else in my family is dying. It could be so much worse. Luckily, I have good friends, a sweet boyfriend and a very funny little dog to make me happy. I'll be ok.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

You might have noticed that I did some much needed blog sidebar updating today.

I have added a bunch of new blogs. I don't use blogrolling, so I had to add all those "by hand". I tried Blogrolling, but when the links were listed, my cute little arrow icons disappeared. So I just do it the old-fashioned way. I realized my browser bookmarks were getting out of hand, so today I added. How does one get added, you ask?

1. You were nice enough to stop by and leave a comment here.2. You have come highly recommended to me through some other blog I read.3. I have "seen ya around" or discovered you on my own and this is my way of saying "Hi! You seem cool!"4. Your blog has been updated sometime in the last couple of weeks. (I ain't gonna link to a dead blog, y'all.)

So you can decide which one applies to you. You can ask me how I found you, but I might not remember....

If you would like to be listed here, just let me know. I will be happy to do so. If I left anyone off, I apologize. Again, please bring this to my attention, because I would like to link everyone who reads me. It's the least I can do for the people who take time out of their day to listen to me blab on and on.

I hope you see at least one blog or website you've never visited before. So go say hi. Go on, go. They'll like you. Just tell 'em I sent you.

Repo and I were enjoying a nice evening the other night. We sat in matching white rocking chairs on his front porch, watching the sun go down and the occasional car drive by. We rocked and talked and sipped on drinks. We had one of those conversations where you really feel you are getting to know the other person. We talked about our families and our goals and our lives. We were out there for at least two hours. It was really nice.

Then he dropped a bombshell on me.

"Hey, I have to tell you something," he said.

Oh boy. Rarely does something good come after this statement. "Um, okay," I replied uneasily.

"You know my ex? The girl I dated before you?" he asked.

Oh yeah, I remember hearing about her. The main thing I knew about her? Supposedly she looks like Jessica Simpson. And she was kinda psycho. I guess she has some issues: depression, anorexia, bulimia, constant drama, high-maintenance, suicidal tendencies, constant crying....you know the type. But no matter how much he emphasized that she has a lot of problems, all I could focus on was she looks like Jessica Simpson.And I don't. I'm not normally a jealous person, but when you hear that your man's ex is a dead-ringer for a mega-hot celebrity, it's kinda hard to just blow that off. For me, at least. Even if she is crazy. I could feel myself turning green.

"Yeah, I remember you telling me about her." Every couple has that Ex Talk sooner or later. We had not talked about her since February, to his credit.

"Okay, I never told you this because I didn't want you to freak out. I wanted you to get to know me first. But I wanted you to know that I was engaged to her. In fact, if she and I were still together, we would be married right now," he said, nervously gauging my reaction.

"Whoa," I said slowly, trying to absorb this statement.

"Are you freaking out?" he asked.

No. I wasn't. Just trying to comprehend it. "No, I'm not. I promise. I'm not mad or anything. I'm glad you told me. I appreciate your honesty. It means you feel comfortable enough telling me that. I am not going to think differently of you because of something in your past. I'm just having a hard time understanding it . Even though she was crazy, she was still so hot that you wanted to marry her?" I asked.

"No, in fact that is what made me break it off. She had too many problems. She pressured me into it and I knew I couldn't go through with it," he explained. "I always felt more like a father figure to her anyway. She really needed someone to take care of her. I just feel sorry for her since she's so messed up. We both agreed it would have been a bad idea. She gave back the ring and we called it off. She and I can talk now, and it's cool. She came the other day to get some of her stuff, so I thought I'd tell you about it."

It turns out that she had been storing some of her stuff in his storage unit, so she came by to get it and leave behind some of his stuff. They didn't see each other face to face. But they did talk on the phone to arrange the stuff exchange. I realized how great of a boyfriend I have. He didn't have to tell me about any of this. Yet he chose to do so. Because he didn't want me being left in the dark or hearing it from someone else. And it was probably hard for him. (I always tease him that he'd better be careful and not talk about relationship stuff or his weiner will fall off.) He had absolutely no idea how I would react. He thought I would be upset. I wasn't. I was just...becoming obsessed with one thought. I replayed it in my head over and over.

Of course, all you ladies know exactly what I'm still thinking at this point: So despite the fact that she's crazy, she's still getting marriage proposals because she looks like Jessica Simpson. And I'm not. What's wrong with me?

See, this really wouldn't be bothering me at all if it weren't for the fact that the last three guys I've dated were all engaged before dating me. I told this to Repo. He seemed relieved that my main issues had nothing to do with him in particular. But he wasn't getting what my problem was. "Quite simply," I told him, "I'm some sort of Rebound Girl. I'm the Anti-Fiancee. I'm the back-up singer. I'm a distraction when someone is recovering from a major relationship breakup. I'm cool enough to hang out with and date for a while, but never cool enough to get a ring. And you guys all swear that I'm soooo much better than your exes, but if that's true, then where are my proposals? I guess it's because I don't look like Jessica Simpson."

Yes, I was having an emotional melt-down. A huge What's wrong with me? moment. I never have these moments. I usually feel secure in my relationships. But to hear this news that Crazy Jessica Simpson can manage to get a proposal and a diamond ring from him and I can't even get Repo to say "I love you" or to stop drinking all my Diet Cokes was a big blow to my self-esteem. Not only was she hotter than me, but she was smart enough to get a ring despite the fact that she's crazy.

"No, you are cool!" he exclaimed. "My friends love you, my family loves you. You have no issues at all. There is very little drama with you. You are a really nice change, I promise. You have no idea how much better our relationship is than what I had with her. We had so many problems all the time. I'm so glad I didn't do it. And you don't have to worry about anything. There is absolutely no chance that we will ever ever get back together. That is one thing I can assure you of."

I felt better after he said that. And I believe him. I do feel secure with him and after this conversation I feel very happy being with him. I have calmed down tremendously since this conversation took place. Especially after he told me some details about her crazy behavior. (I guess after they broke up she died her hair jet black and bought a motorcycle.)

But I'm still hung up on this pattern I have in my dating life. What does it mean? What does that say about me that the crazy/ugly/bitchy/cheating exes can all finagle rings out of men and I can't get them to put the toilet seat down? I know they didn't end up getting married, but at least they must have reached the "I love you, will you marry me?" point. Where's my big romantic moment? All three guys have sworn up and down that I'm soooo much better than their ex. But if I'm so great, where's my ring?

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

1. I am left-handed.2. I can drive stick.3. I cannot do math. At all. Not even add or subtract. My checkbook is always off by some random amount, like right now I'm off by $4.11.4. States I've lived in include: VA, NC, SC, IN5. I've never been west of Kansas.6. I've been in 2 tornadoes. NOT fun.7. I can't sing, but I love to try when I'm alone.8. My ethnic background is 2/3 Irish. The rest is Scottish, English and German.9. I am a bottle blonde. I secretly want platinum blonde hair like Marilyn Monroe.10. This ethnic makeup means my skin is Honkey White in color. But I tan well.11. I've been to Italy, Key West and Chicago. I love to travel.12. I was an ancient history major. Until the age of 21 I wanted to be an archaeologist. Then I realized this meant I'd have to get dirty. A lot. Not my bag.13. Now I don't know what I want to be. It changes on a daily basis.14. My siblings and I have semi-unusual names.15. I hate tea. Hot, cold, sweet, whatever. It's all nasty.16. I also hate olives, artichokes, sushi and Indian food.17. Lots of things make me barf. You can say I'm a "puker". I barf a lot.18. I suffer from migraines and live in fear of them. Thank the Lord for Excedrin or I would kill myself.19. I have a tendency to over-dress for occassions. I like looking nice and getting dressed up. It's the little girl in me.20. I drink a cup of coffee every morning. I love it. I must have it.21. My first impressions of people are always right. Always. I've never been wrong.22. I am kind of OCD-ADD. This means I get obsessed with a new project, then I get bored and find a new project. I never finish anything. I just move on to the next obsession.23. I hate cold weather. And by cold I mean anthing below 75 degrees F.24. I don't mind cleaning bathrooms or kitchens at all. This is because dirty sinks really bug me.25. But I hate dusting.26. I'm somewhat of a germophobe. This doesn't stop me from letting my dog lick my face.27. I am retarded when it comes to home decorating. Just clueless.28. I am probably the most opinionated person you will ever meet. I have no problem telling anyone how I feel. I don't always sugar-coat it either.29. I have a grand total of 4 cousins. They are all boys.30. My family is spread out all over God's Creation. I am jealous of people who can see their whole, extended family all the time. This is foreign to me.31. Most of the people in my family are good cooks. The biscuit recipe we use is from my great-great grandmother. She was a pioneer out west. I think this is so cool.32. I am an "indoor girl". This means that camping is not my idea of a good time.33. But sitting on a porch or walking in a park is nice.34. You'll never catch me doing anything that would put me at risk for bodily injury. I am a big wuss. I wouldn't even do a wheelie on my bike when I was a kid. I still wouldn't.35. But I really don't mind public speaking.36. Or going on blind dates.37. I'm a social butterfly. Meeting new people is one of my favorite things to do. I am very very friendly.38. I have a big mouth. No subject is off limits with me.39. I have the largest makeup collection of anyone I know. I own at least 150 lipsticks alone. I shudder to think how much money I spend on it. But I can't stop.40. The rest of my spending money goes towards candy, cookies and ice cream. My sweet tooth scares me sometimes.41. I once ate two pounds of Jelly Belly jellybeans in one day. I only stopped because I ran out of jellybeans.42. So I went back to the store to get more from the big scoop-em-yourself bins. They were out because I had just bought the last of them. So I busted open the display and I bought those. 43. I want to have a ton of kids one day. Like...five or six. I should probably get on that considering I'm 27 and single.44. There are only three desserts I won't eat: key lime pie, anything with liquer in it and tiramisu. Yuck!45. I'm slowly turning into my mother. This isn't too bad. She's pretty cool. Luckily I didn't inherit her short temper. Or her mediocre sense of humor. But she's much better at math. Dang.46. I don't like the taste of wine. I don't even drink it at church. This has nothing to do with the fact that I don't drink alcohol at all.47. I love dogs. I just got one and now I want to have 7 or 8. If I don't get married, I'll be a dog lady. And I'll adopt a bunch of kids.48. But I dislike cats. I think I'm also mildly allergic to them. Plus, I find them very unfriendly and not at all fun to play with. They scratch me.49. When I don't do anything productive, I get depressed. Busy VB is Happy VB.50. I'm very old-fashioned in some ways. Door opening is big with me.51. I am really really good a foreign languages. I can talk to you in French, Latin, Spanish and German.52. I love anything Italian. Or Southern.53. I feel I have nothing in common with hippies. Or most Yankees. Or gay people. I'm working on this. Please don't hate me. You can't change what you don't acknowledge. I'm not very p.c. I guess.54. James Bond and the volleyball scene from Top Gun are the hottest things I've ever seen. They leave me speechless and drooling. Well, uniforms and tuxes are just hot! What can I say?55. I have a thing for blondes with lots of muscles. Skinny men are really unattractive to me. I'm more of a football-player-build kinda girl.56. I am totally against the whole Metrosexual movement. Manly men rock!57. My hair is stick straight. Always. It laughs at me when I try to curl it.58. I am on a constant quest to have clearer skin and longer nails.59. I was in a sorority in college.60. But I was never a cheerleader.61. I did track for one year in high school.62. Other than that, I am totally unathletic. I only work out to keep my figure.63. There isn't a tomboy bone in my body. I am 100% girly girl.64. But I do enjoy watching the occassional college football or basketball game.65. I love my boobs but I hate my hips.66. People think I am a half-Asian blonde girl, but I'm not. I have almond-shaped eyes because they are from the Scottish side of my family.67. I have lots of random small-world moments. The stories give people chills.68. I love horror movies, ghost stories and true crime stories.69. I believe in ghosts. But I've never seen one. I have had weird stuff happen to me, though. I half-way believe in psychics.70. When I was little, I was obsessed with fairies and My Little Ponies.71. I think Mike Myers is hilarious. I also find animals very funny.72. I also like British humor like Monty Python. I realize not everyone likes this.73. I grew up on a farm. We grew raspberries and tobacco and had horses and cows.74. I was raised Catholic. Like, old school Catholic. I had to wear a mantilla to church. Mass was in Latin. Because of this, I'm always having a guilt trip about something. It comes with the territory.75. Then my family switched to Episcopalian a few years ago. We got fed up with the Catholic Church. Sometimes I miss being Catholic.76. I am a huge history buff. Anything historical is cool.77. I love to read when I'm in the mood. Usually I am reading to learn something. Yes, I am a big dork. I'm just not that into fiction, ok?78. Addiction comes easily to me. This is not good.79. I can play the violin. I played for many years.80. I always wanted art lessons instead. I like drawing and love art.81. I really identify with Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, the women on Sex and the City and Miss Piggy. I just realized that makes me sound like a bimbo. I'm not. Okay, maybe I am a little.82. I really want a red convertible one day. And a house on the beach.83. But if I won the lottery, I would buy a yacht and sail around the world, partying with all my friends. Kinda like the Big Pimpin' video.84. I like all kinds of music except jazz. Especially rap. (It's okay to hate me for this.)85. I am a nerd because I like school. Learning is really fun for me. I want to be in school again. I would take a class just for fun.86. I am a know-it-all who needs to be called out.87. I have a tendency to be close-minded and overly-conservative. But I'm working on it.88. I always know what I want. Always.Wimpy people who are afraid to make decisions and can't make up their minds irritate the piss out of me.89. Reading over my shoulder will get you an elbow to the face.90. I once dated a guy with three testicles.91. Any version of pink or green are my favorite colors.92. I hate brown. And that mustard color.93. I am a good person to borrow money from because I will forget about it five minutes later. But if I borrow money from you, I will also forget to repay you.94. My baby brother died in a sudden drowning accident two years ago to the day. He was 18. Eight months later I lost my dad. Grief sucks. If another one of my family members dies, I'll kill them. Har har.95. I never have cash on me. Ever.96. I use my American Express card for everything. I am keeping them in business.97. I don't usually like mushy and romantic stuff. After about 5 minutes of cheese, I want to barf. Flowers are an exception.98. My toes are freakishly long. I think I could peel a banana with them, but I haven't tried.99. I'm a horrible person to play a board game with: I am both a sore loser and a sore winner. I play for blood!!100. I have a pair of lucky purple shoes. Every time I wear them, something cool happens.

I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been hoping I'll get better. I went to Dr. Butcher yesterday and he said that I'm healing up very well. It didn't hurt one bit when I had it re-stuffed yesterday. You have no idea how awesome this is. Unless you've ever had one of these things.

I'm going in today to have Dr. Awesome look at it. Unfortunately, I still won't be able to take a shower, swim or exercise for some time. It's still pretty deep, and any kind of water or moisture is a very bad thing. Aside from the fact that bathing is a huge pain in the ass and I'm gaining weight at lightning speed since I can't exercise, I'm fine.

The weird thing now is that since I'm done taking the antibiotic pills, they have switched me to an antibiotic cream. Normally you put it on your skin, but since that could make my infection worse, I have to--get this--put it in my nose. I put a dab in each nostril and massage it in so the medicine gets in my bloodstream. Very strange. It makes my nose numb and feel like it's running. At least it smells okay.

Does anyone know if it's possible to build up a tolerance to Vicodin after only taking it 5 times? Because it just never really kicked in yesterday. I got a little buzzy, but I could still drive. I knew you could build up a tolerance, but I thought it took more than 5 and a half pills. My body does weird things with drugs sometimes.

Did I mention that I have to have my very first cavity filled on Thursday? Woo-hoo the party never ends. No one told me that when I turn 27 my body starts falling apart. I have never valued my health (or lack thereof) more than this year. If I have to see one more needle or listen to one more person give me bad news, I'm going to curl up into the fetal position and start singing to myself.

Monday, May 22, 2006

I "drug-dialed" Lady Starfish before she knew what was wrong with my butt. I left a message on her voicemail. It scared the crap out of her. This is how my message went:

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaam's!!!" [Remember, that is the nickname we have for each other.]

"Whas-up.....I am on Vicodin and issa good time.....Anyway.... [Insert 2 minute pause here. Yeah, she said it was dead silence. Apparently I totally lost my train of thought.] .......ummmm.....jus call me back so I can tell you why I am on sedated drugs....[Insert massive sigh here.] Aaaaaaaaaaaah....my ass hurts. Call me back. Bye."

I only vaguely remember leaving this message. The lesson? Vidodin is fun.

Anecdote #2-- Last Saturday was yet another doctor's visit. Gotta stuff new gauze into the gaping hole on my ass, you know. At the doctor's office where I go, there are two doctors: Dr. Awesome and Dr. Butcher. Only one works per shift. Their names are directly related to the amount of physical pain they put me through. Based on my calculations, I was due to get Dr. Butcher. Remember, he is the one who made me cry I was in so much pain. It was like what I imagine torture to be. In anticipation of a repeat of my last visit with Dr. Butcher, I decided it would be a good idea to take a little extra Vicodin, just to ease off the pain a little better. So instead of taking one pill, I took one and a half. (Before you freak out and think I'm a drug addict, the docs said I can take up to two at a time.)

When Repo came to pick me up to take me to the doctor, I wuzzzz.....feelin'.....pretty good. I announced to him how much I had taken. He thought that it was a bad idea on my part. I slurringly begged to differ. I was rockin'!

For about an hour. By the time I was in the waiting room, it was Nausea City. They called my name to come to the back, and I looked up at them in my narcotically-induced stupor and informed them that they would have to wait because before I could go anywhere, I had to barf. I think my exact words were, "Ok, hold on. I gotta barf." Then I grabbed the trashcan and hurled into it. Twice. I got most of it into the trashcan. Some of it got on the floor. I thought this was pretty good, considering I would have been unable to spell my name at that point. Then I apologized to everyone. Twice.

Then I felt fine. And luckily (!) it didn't kill my buzz. Suh-weet. The Lesson? One Vicodin good. One and a half bad.

Anecdote #3:

So after my weekly torture with Dr. Butcher, I ask (again, slurringly) about my lab results--what kind of bacterial infection are we looking at, Doc? So he goes to get my lab results. I lay there, ass out for the world to see, buzzing...well, buzzing my ass off.

Dr. Butcher comes back in a few minutes with a grim look on his face. I knew it was bad news. F--k, I thought in my drug-soaked brain, I have an incurable flesh-eating bacteria attacking my ass and the whole thing will fall off....wait....that might be a good thing. Size 6 here I come!

And then I realized he was talking and I hadn't heard anything he'd been saying. But I got the tail end of it: The nurse who had filled out the paperwork for my lab test did so incorrectly and they didn't test it for what they were supposed to test it for. Bottom line? They threw out my ass-swab and now we will never know what kind of bacteria I have. Dr. Butcher was looking at me like he expected me to grab a scalpel and stab him 347 times so he could bleed to death slowly and painfully. Or sue the crap out of him.

The lesson? When you have bad news to tell patients, tell them when they are hopped up on pills.

Anecdote #4: After some more questions about my medical condition and a new prescription from Dr. Butcher, Repo comes to pick me up. He begs me not to be like last time. He also wants to make sure I'm ok since I barfed (aww.).

Apparently, the last time he picked me up, I would not. stop. talking. He said it was like being with a little kid. I asked questions constantly and kept telling these pointless stories to everyone within 5 feet of me as I stumbled and slurred. These stories included: the benefits of ginger to cure nausea and motion sickness, how a tree fell down and smushed a car in Repo's neighborhood, how the people who owned the tree will probably be sued, how much I love a particular chain of grocery stores here in Columbia, how hard it is for me to find the ginger ale in the drug store, how nauseated I am, how constipated I am, how much it annoys me that Repo drinks all my diet cokes, how much I love my dog Sammy because he doesn't care how I act when I'm on painkillers, how awesome Vicodin is, what I wanted to eat for dinner, what I wanted to do with Repo alone in my room....you get the idea. I also debated with Repo about the level of my voice. He says I was yelling the whole time, I slurringly beg to differ. Basically, I had no internal dialogue. It was just verbal spewage of the worst kind. And I started in the car, continued in the drug store and kept talking for another hour or so when I got home. Everyone around me was either annoyed, scared or laughing at me. It was a good time.

The lesson? Vicodin f--ks me up.

Anecdote #5:

A little-known side effect of Vicodin (for me, at least) is bizarre dreams. I had one the other night. This is how it went: I'm in the grocery store, in the deli. I'm a customer, yet I'm standing behind the counter. The deli people are trying to get me to eat a sandwich, in a peer-pressure kind of way:

Deli Guy: Do you like seafood?

Me: Um, yeah, some of it.

Deli Guy: Just try the sandwich. You'll like it.

I take a bite of sandwich, exclaim that he is right. It's pretty yummy. I take a couple more bites. Then I take a good look at my sandwich. I am eating a squid sandwich. There are big slices of squid all in my sandwich, complete with eyeballs slices and tentacle slices. The squid were sliced lengthwise. Then there was something else in there. I peeled back the bread to reveal: a gigantic spider, marinated in herbs and olive oil. Don't ask me how I knew this. I just knew it was marinated, ok?

Of course, this is disgusting, even to Vicodin-dream VB, so I chuck it into the trashcan. Oh, but wait. What is already in the trashcan? Snakes. Big, black, slimy snakes. Tons of 'em. Why are they slimy, you ask? Because they have been marinating in tomato sauce. So they are all slithering around. Ew ew ew.

[Side note and VB trivia: I have dreams about snakes all the time. Remind me to tell you about the one I had when I was in kindergarten. Don't know what this means, but I'm too scared to look it up.]

I had another dream. I was at a Halloween party, hosted by a hot guy. Good, so far, right? Well, I was already checking him out when I realized that he was also making yummy treats as he was hosting the party! And all the treats were really yummy, unlike my last dream. There were little candies on all of these homemade goodies. So I began to hit on him. I don't remember what happened next, but all I know is that somehow this dream morphed into a third dream where a large group of my friends were camping with me and Sammy and we kept getting separated and lost. But the forest was so pretty, I didn't care. Plus, I had Sammy with me. Hard to be scared when you have your dog with you.

Well folks, I gotta go. Today I have to go to the doctor (again). That means I have to get going before my Vicodin kicks in. My arms are already getting tingly and it's hard for me to focus on typing this. Stay tuned for more Adventures with Vicodin. I'll be back with more stories, I am sure.

Also, I have to tell you about The Return of Jessica Simpson. But that takes a lot more clear-headedness than I have right now.

I have been slacking on this lately... so to make up for it, here is a picture my friend, Charleston Guy sent. He is currently in Okinawa, Japan, enjoying some sake during his free time from a business trip. I guess they have this special sake called Habu Sake. Know how they put worms in tequila sometimes? Well, I guess the Japanese think worms are wimpy, so they upped the ante with venomous pit vipers in their sake! Crazy! Here is a pic he sent me. Very cool. Crazy, but cool. It seems like something from a James Bond movie to me.

Speaking of which, the new James Bond is hot hot hot!!! There is just something about James Bond, you know?

I just accidentally had to correct my spelling above. I originally typed "James Bone". Hmmm...Freudian slip, perhaps? Moving on...

A little-known fact about VB: I am a HUGE fan of the Muppets. I really identify with Miss Piggy and have considered using a picture of her for my avatar. Anyway, I stumbled on the Muppet Wiki, which led me to these fun sites. Very funny and entertaining. Gotta love spoofs!

I have been looking for spoofs on other characters, but am still working on it...

By the way, I was telling Repo about this and he heard that Ernie was dead. I guess that they wanted to teach kids about grief and so they let one of the Sesame Street characters die, and I guess a bunch of people got upset...has anyone else heard this rumor? Because I was traumatized! I mean, what will Rubber Duckie do now? It's not like Bert is into taking baths! I hope he was just making this up to freak me out.

Enjoy, guys. Hope everyone had a good weekend. Now to catch up on some blogs...

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Greetings, readers! About two weeks ago, Lady Starfish attended a wedding. It was held in a tattoo parlor. Yes, a tattoo parlor. This business establishment is owned by the mother of the bride. I was waiting on pins and needles to hear how this kind of wedding works, because it is just too unbelievable. She emailed me her review of the festivities a few days ago.

With her permission, she has allowed me to relay it to you here, under the following conditions: all identifying details will be removed from the story and I have to promise her that y'all won't think she (or her family, for that matter) is some kind of a redneck for even going to this kind of wedding. Promise? Okay. So no trailer jokes. (No, she doesn't live in a trailer.) Oh, and FYI: J is Lady Starfish's boyfriend.

Her email:

I am going to send you some pictures from the wedding. There is so much to talk about regarding that. It was actually a really sweet wedding and I cried. I don’t know why….it just seemed very personal…….maybe because we were crowded into a tiny tattoo parlor surrounded by people with piercings, mo-hawks and sleeved arms. So we go into the parlor – and this is one of my favorite parts – the guest book is right under all the pictures of the naked ladies people can choose to have tattooed. It was a guest book complete with matching pen. The bride walked out to “She’s my Cherry Pie” by Warrant.” Why? I don’t know. I think it is their song. I just don’t know. The bride was in full garb. The dress was strapless which accentuated her sleeved left shoulder. Luckily she took out her piercings, i.e. lip, nose, etc. Her mom was COVERED in tattoos. I mean covered. The guests were an arrangement of older normal looking family members to young punk likes with those big black earrings, lip and nose rings with funky old clothes. Pretty much everyone looked like they belonged in a Linkin Park video. Another classy moment was after the pictures were taken, the bride had to have a smoke. Nothing says class like a young bride with stringy hair smoking a cigarette in a wedding dress. I wanted a picture of that but I was out of film by then. I did get a picture of her dad getting his long ratty grey hair braided as he sat in a seat right before the wedding – the hair matched his long ratty grey beard that resembled an old ZZ Top member. Did I mention he had ONE tooth? She seemed to really love her dad, so that cancelled out all the weirdness. In the pictures you will get to see what I am looking like these days – chubby with hair I hate – and what J looks like. He dressed in a pastel green shirt and khaki pants. He didn’t go well with the wedding party. So after the wedding we have a reception at my brother’s house. Have you ever felt like you were at a party and no one would notice if you left…….and never came back? That is how we felt.

Let me back track. We didn’t get to leave City X until 10:30 p.m. on Saturday night because J didn’t get off work until then. So we ended up making excellent time to getting to my brother’s town.

Once we get into the town, we get sooooooooooooooooo lost. We stopped at 3 different gas stations. At one we witnessed a four and a half foot girl get into a screaming match with a seven foot guy outside of one the gas stations. They stopped the fight in order to buy beer before the cutoff of three a.m. That was neat and scary. So 40 minutes later we finally figure out how to get to my brother’s. Keep in mind that they are in central time. It was 3:40 a.m. but really 4:40 a.m. to us. We get to my brother’s and everyone is awake. We didn’t call because we thought everyone would be asleep. Oh well. So we don’t get into bed until around 4:30 a.m. their time.

We have to get up the next morning around 10:00– there are 10 people staying in the house including us. Can anyone say “Where do I get ready?” We had our own room, but we all had to take showers, iron, etc. In the midst, no one offered us ANY food or ANYTHING to drink. So J and I each ate one of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies I had brought. So we go to the wedding and the back to the reception. By this time it is like 4:00 p.m. and all they have is finger foods. J and I were STARVING.

In the meantime I saw my niece for the first time in 10 years. She has since had a child (he is eight) and just got married to some guy that she met in November. My family is so redneck it is embarrassing. It was nice to see her and we totally get along, but she is one of these people that are just full of crap. Apparently her ex-boyfriend (who is 14 years older than her – she is 26) held her hostage and raped her and now he is in prison. I was like what? I don’t know. And then, if all of this happened why would you go off and marry a guy only after knowing him for 3 months? Because “you just know it’s right” and “you know in your heart” that “he’s the one.” Right….. So after listening to this long, creepy and odd story – and being tired of saying “Oh wow. You seem like you are doing okay now. And I am so happy you found someone who is treating you good.” - I couldn’t take it.

J and I left and found a McDonalds. We then ate our food in 3.6 seconds and the got an apple pie each and devoured it. So 3 minutes later (including eating and drive time) we just sat there in the restaurant taking up time so that we didn’t have to go back. The house was literally packed to the gills with people I didn’t know. So we drove around and called my parents and I vented to them. So we go back and it had kind of settled down. Keep in mind that my family is - for some reason – not overly friendly. No one really went out of their way to talk to us – except the groom and my crazy niece. So we still felt like outsiders. I am still perplexed how no one was hungry and it was like 5:30 p.m. Who goes all day with out one meal?

Okay so now is where is gets weird. Let me explain my family. My brother married S 10 years ago. This is her third marriage. She has two sons. Each from a different marriage. T is the oldest (my age) – he was married and has two daughters. He is now gay. And quite a whore from the stories. He doesn’t act gay and is really good looking – but apparently had a four way with the neighbors. What? I don’t know. Then there is the groom who is in to piercings and tattoos and death metal music – Oh and on a side note…..he and his fiancée both got tattoos the day before the wedding. The groom got a best friend tattoo with his BFF named R. It has a gravestone with the date they met. It has nothing to do with his wife. R got one too that matches. Uh, yeah……..

Also, two of T’s exboyfriends were there. Apparently they are both still in love with him. What it boils down to is T has had so much sex that he is going to end up getting AIDS. He is a great person and doesn’t act gay AT ALL except that he has sex with men. Also S is obsessed with something called “My Space”. I don’t know what it is, but she showed me her website or whatever. I was thinking, ‘you are 50 and married. Why are doing this?’ AND one of T’s exboyfriends was talking about what a whore T was and I asked him what else goes on in this house…..he shut up really quickly and wouldn’t say anything. So I asked if my brother and S were involved in any weird activities. He avoided an answer. J thinks the whole family except for the groom are swingers……and I am thinking it could be true. I am disturbed. All I know is that my parents would DIE if they had been there. I am so the golden child right now.

Love,Lady Starfish

Ok, now it's me (VB) again. Don't you just love this story??? Like Teahouse Blossom said in her blog the other day--you can't make this stuff up! This is why she needs to get a blog. Stuff like this happens to her all the time. Her family is really sweet and they aren't rednecks, despite what you may be thinking now. But you know how families are--there's always a "weird" branch of the family. They keep everyone else entertained!

I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did. My favorite part is how LS doesn't know about myspace. She kills me. I also love that the bride walks down the "aisle" to Cherry Pie. Classic!Thanks, LS, for letting me retell this gem of a story. Your emails are so highly anticipated. You don't even know. More! More!

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

I think this is the longest I've ever gone without posting. But I can explain, really. If anyone is even reading this anymore! So, what's been going on with VB? Let's just say I've met my health insurance deductable. I'll give you the quick n dirty explanation:

I got a bad cold. I have now had it for 10 days. It refuses to die. I've taken 2 sick days for it.

We started doing inventory at work. This involves not only scanning each book, but also putting them in order and then going back to check our work. It wasn't a picnic, but it is a necessary evil. And it was kinda nice to do something different. Doing inventory means that I'm out with the books all day instead of at the desk, reading blogs and posting. So that was a contributing factor in my abscence.

The rest of the days I've been gone are related to yet another medical condition. The real icing on the cake is that I also have somehow managed to get an abscess. Yup, just what Repo got. Did I catch it from him? Probably. But until the lab results come in, I won't know for sure.

I noticed some swelling on Friday night and thought it was just an ingrown hair or something. But by Saturday morning, it was red, extremely painful and very swollen. It was also the size of a small dinner plate. No joke. After seeing what Repo had been through, I pretty much knew what I was dealing with. I knew I was in for it--the pain, the medication, the numerous doctor trips. I said some not-so-nice things to him. Because it takes about a month for these to heal up. And because I had to have FIVE shots. That's FIVE needles. And they HURT.

He lost some serious boyfriend points with this.According to the doctor, abscesses are spreading all over town, which makes me wonder because I was under the impression that these were hard to catch. I just figured the fact that Repo is naturally averse to hand-washing (no matter how often I ask him to do it) left me in a high-risk environment. I thought it was one of those things where I would have to touch it directly in order to get it. We were very careful about keeping it bandaged and away from my hands. Or so we thought. I guess one time he must not have washed his hands. And then I didn't wash my hands. The Czarina is having a field day with this, implying that he and I are nasty and filthy people who do not bathe:

"Nice couple. Maybe you two can go to the doctor together and get them drained at the same time. Is there a two-for-one special?"

"Yeah, Mom, we can lay on parallel tables and hold hands while they do it. Thanks for the sympathy," I replied.

Did I mention where my abscess is located?

It's ON MY ASS. Of all freakin' places. I'm sorry if that grosses you out, but I can assure you that it's probably the most humiliating thing I've ever had to endure. I think that giving myself a head-to-toe scrub down with the loofah must have opened me up to infection. Either that or something mundane like an ingrown hair. And of course, the kind of luck that I have, it ends up on my ass. Unbelievable. All in the name of having a smooth tushie. Ask me how sexy I feel.

Ever called your boss to say that you can't come in to work because your ass hurts? Not fun.

Please note for the record: This infection does not mean that I am a nasty, filthy person who does not bathe. It's just a bacterial infection. All it takes is one time not washing your hands. And one teeny-tiny opening on your skin. And one itsy bitsy bacterium to get in there. And some people are just naturally more susceptible to getting them. So no jokes about my personal hygeine. And go wash your hands. Trust me, you don't want this.

I'm a little frustrated with medical information of today. I have heard different things from different medical sources. So has Repo. So we have no idea if we can pass it back and forth over and over. He's afraid to touch me because he doesn't want to get it again. We don't know if I can spread it to my coworkers or K. We don't know if Sammy will get it. I don't know if I should be quarantined or sterilize my apartment or what. Do I have to throw away my shower sponge? Boil my sheets? Forbid people from drinking after me? We don't even know how we got it--Repo read something that said the bacteria can be airborne. We can only suppose Repo caught it in the emergency room when he got his eye sewn up. The doctor's attitude to all my questions is "Until the lab results come in and we know what kind of bacteria it is, all I can tell you to do is wash your hands." Not much help. By the time the lab results come in, I could spread it to everyone I know.

Probably the most inconvenient thing about it is that it cannot get wet. Have you ever tried to take a shower without getting your ass wet? Yeah, it doesn't work. So I have to lean over the tub and wash body sections one at a time. And the whole time, I have to pose in angles which don't allow water to run down my back and get my butt wet. It takes about 45 minutes. It's very tiring.

It's probably a staph infection, so it could be serious if left unattended. It's also going to be hard to get rid of. That's why I'm really pumped up with antibiotics right now. That's also why I leave nasty messages on Repo's voice mail every day. Messages like: "Hi. It's me. I can't sit down. In case you forgot, this is all your fault. And P.S.--I hate you. Bye."

He knows I'm kidding. Kinda.

It's also really really painful, especially when they go to change the dressing. It feels like they are taking steel wool and grinding it into the open sore. It hurts so badly that I literally cry and want to punch the doctor in the face. It's the most painful thing I've ever had. It even beats out migraines. There is no way labor is this painful. No way.

Which is why they gave me a prescription for Vicodin. Let me tell ya--I'm having a good time about 45 minutes after taking that. Remember how Anna Nicole Smith was when she was fat and out of it? That's exactly how I am. It's like I'm drunk. I have no internal dialogue and I talk very loudly, according to Repo. And K thinks I'm hilarious when I take it because I bump into furniture and dance to music videos. In case you've never had it, Vicodin doesn't really numb anything so much as you just don't care about anything. Like that scene from Sex and the City where Miranda gets eye surgery and Steve asks her: "Are you okay?" and she replies, "I'm on Valium. Everything's okay." I have never felt so relaxed in my life. It's like vacation in pill format. I had a grin on my face for four hours. Then I passed out.

While I'm a lot better than I was, it will take about 3 more weeks for this to clear up. The good thing is, I caught it very early. But I have to get the dressing changed every other day. So I'll be sponge-bathing and wacked out on meds for a little while. Hopefully no one I know and love will get one. And I'm crossing my fingers that I won't get any side effects from the antibiotics. (Ladies, you know what I mean!) But the doctor did a really good job last night. I noticed a big difference this morning. At least today I can sit.

And yes, I'm leaving out lots of gross parts. Trust me, you don't want to know the dirty details of this kind of infection. Just wash your hands constantly. And pray really hard that you don't get one. On your ass or anywhere else.

Now, when I say that my boyfriend is a pain in my ass, it can be taken literally.

Monday, May 08, 2006

Ok, she's going to kill me for this, but this is Blonde, in the bathroom, drunk. She is stuck in her dress because she's trying to pee and won't hold still long enough for us to help her. I was laughing while I took this, that's why it's fuzzy. She will now murder me for doing this. But whatever. She was all worried about being drunk there, but after we left, I guess the mother of the bride fell off the stage. So, really, it's no biggie that she got drunk.

Ok, I took this one while I was driving. Pretty good, eh? That's the big redneck truck I was telling you about. My car (a sedan) comes up to the top of the tires. That's how tall this thing was.

One of the big boats I saw from my hotel room window. This picture doesn't do it justice. You can fit a fleet of airplanes inside this thing.

Aww, so cute! My little Sammy! Those are my shoes. And the rug (crumpled from playing with Sammy) was made by my grandma. He's a good boy and doesn't chew on them. The Czarina would scream if she saw this picture, because her mom made the rug and she wants to preserve it forever. Shhh...don't tell on me.

Ok, let me just say that I'm not feeling very well, so I'm going home early today. Apologies to everyone because again, I will be behind on reading everyone's blogs. Please forgive me. I can assure you that my sore throat and dry hacking cough are not pleasant. I feel like crap. I just want to lay down and eat some soup.

And yes, it might be from the three cigarettes I had this weekend. Shut up.

Oh, one more thing. Repo made dinner for me when I got home on Saturday. So sweet! And just what I needed after dealing with The Assholes (see below).

I tried to get my disposable camera photos put onto a CD so I could post them here, but the girl at the drugstore gave me attitude, so I'll have to do it some other time. I got a really good shot of the trees in Savannah, so I'd like to post that sometime. Oh well. That's what I get for being the last human on earth to not own a digital camera. I'll get one some day! Until then, y'all are stuck with my camera phone pictures.

A hotel isn't like a home, but it's better than being a house guest. -- William Feather

My oldest friend in the world, J, came to visit me and her extended family this weekend. She landed here in Columbia on Friday morning, along with her boyfriend, S. It was like we had never skipped a beat. After 13 years, we still get along like peas 'n' carrots. I even like her boyfriend! We had breakfast and then hung out at my house for a little while. She told me she had to be in the Charleston area on Sunday for her family reunion (small world moment: it turns out her family and Repo's family are from the same tiny town near Charleston!). But until then, she would be hanging with S's friends nearby.

I had originally planned to go down for the day on Saturday to hang out with her and S's friends. (I was misinformed--I thought they lived on Isle of Palms, but it was actually James Island, where Folly Beach is located.) But they convinced me to leave right away and spend the entire weekend with them. I asked if I could bring Sammy, and after making a call, they said the hosts didn't mind. So I packed quickly and put Sammy in the car.

An hour and a half later, we arrived at the house. Two minutes after that, I realized I had made a bad decision. It turns out I was staying with The Assholes. Apparently, "hospitality" is a foreign concept to these people. Maybe I've been spoiled by Southern Hospitality, but these people really offended me. (And yes, they were from up north, so I'm not trying to be sterotypical, but....if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then....)

Have you ever gone somewhere with a group and felt totally left out? You're sitting there thinking, Why am I even here? That's pretty much how my stay went. It started the moment I walked in the door.

Only the host, Mr. Asshole, was home. He scarcely spoke a word to me. Mrs. Asshole was still at work and then had to pick up the kids from school. I was not greeted by Mr. Asshole or instructed on where to put my things. So I left them in the middle of the living room. Since they had a fenced-in yard, I put Sammy out there. Again, this was my idea. I was not told what to do with my dog. When I came back into the kitchen, Mr. Asshole was having a blast, talking to J & S. He never really acknowledged my presence. He made pina coladas for them, and then they went outside to sit on the patio.

Notice that I was not offered anything to drink? Or that I was not invited to join them? Yeah, me too.

An hour or so later, when Mrs. Asshole got home, she offered me something to drink. I was beginning to think it was only Mr. Asshole who was a jerk, until I realized that Mrs. Asshole didn't have a problem with letting me be the babysitter while they all drank and talked amongst theirselves. So I found myself coloring with the kid while they were outside. Gee, fun times. (To be honest, at this point, I would have rather been coloring. At least the kid was nice to me.)

Mrs. Asshole then began to cook dinner, and she then came over to me and said, "Were you planning on taking a shower before we go out?" I told her I was. She said, "Ok, well, can you take your shower now?" Normally, this would not bother me, but I was already feeling uncomfortable because no one was including me in any conversation, so I felt like I was being bossed around like a child. I went up to take a shower. Mrs. Asshole gave me some towels and showed me where I was sleeping. She told me I could bring my things upstairs to her sons' room. Then she showed me a bunk bead. This is fine with me. A bed's a bed. But then she said, "I hope you don't mind that my son will be sleeping in the bunk above you. And I'll change the sheets for you before we go to bed tonight."

She neglected to mention that her son had to get up at 8am the next morning for a baseball game. She also neglected to change the sheets for me. I am wondering--is it too much to ask that a guest have a room to themselves, with clean sheets? When I was little and company had to stay in my room, I just slept on the couch. Maybe this is just my family's way of doing things.

So I took my shower and then went back downstairs. I let Sammy in, and then I was informed that they didn't want the dog inside the house. This would have been helpful information if given in advance. Don't tell me my dog is welcome if he's not. If I had known this, I wouldn't have brought him because they made Sammy sleep outside. Maybe I'm being overprotective or silly, but Sammy is like my child. He sometimes sleeps in the bed with me, so for him to sleep outside in the cold is not something he is used to. He is an inside dog with very short fur, so he gets cold easily. He's not the kind of dog who is cool with being outside to begin with. He is right by my side 99% of the time. He felt like he was being punished, and so he whined and barked for most of the night while on the porch. This brought me to tears. So I stayed outside with him periodically to calm him down and try to explain things to him. The Assholes and J & S looked at me like I was crazy. I wanted to tell them to f--k off. If they had dogs, they would understand.

So we ate dinner, which was yummy. Then the three of them kept drinking. I again was not offered anything, and finally had to ask if I may have some water. And I'm still in the living room with the kid, only now we are watching a kiddie movie. The other adults are in the kitchen laughing it up. Fun times. So then it's time to go out to the bars. To be honest, I didn't want to go. I was tired and downtown parking in Charleston is a big pain in the butt. Especially at night on the weekends, from what I've heard. I hinted around at not going with them (because by this point, I had already decided I would be leaving in the morning). But then Mrs. Asshole turned to me and said, "Ok, we are going out to the bars now. We were thinking we could go in J & S's car, and that you could drive."

Can I just give my readers a word of advice? If you have a friend who doesn't drink and you are going to the bars and you want this sober person to taxi you around all night, let them offer first. Don't assume they will do it. I'm sorry, but this is only polite to let it be my idea, not yours. Sometimes I don't feel like driving! And I'm not your personal taxicab driver! And what's up with ordering me around???

Side note: Mrs. Asshole is all about some economy sized stuff. I have never seen so many economy-sized things in my life. Shampoo, cereal, olive oil, you name it. Everything in the house was in a giant container. I'm as much about saving money as the next person, but that was just weird. I don't know where she finds the room to store it all.

So since I'm a big sucker, I end up going out with them, driving 4 semi-drunk people around in a car that was not mine. Mr. Asshole sat next to me. Whoop-de-doo. His arms were crossed the entire time, and he acted like I had cooties. Whatever. I didn't know where I was going and there was a lot of traffic and a zillion pedestrians. The 4 semi-drunk people all yelled instructions at me as to where to turn, when to stop, etc. Since I have not mastered the art of listening to 4 people at once while driving in these conditions, I came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the road and informed them that only one person need to speak and until then, I wasn't moving. I was pretty much at a breaking point and almost in tears by this time. Mr. Asshole was elected to give me directions, which he proceeded to bark out to me without so much as a please or thank you. Oh, and he and Mrs. Asshole had an argument during all of this.

My only revenge was that I had no cash with me, so other people had to pay for parking and my cover charge at the bars. Ha ha!

Needless to say, I was not having a good time and was again left out of all conversations. Luckily, I ran into Charleston Guy. It was so nice to see a friendly face! I had wanted to call him to tell him I was in town, but it was all so last minute and I was in such a crappy mood that I didn't call. I really doubt he and his girlfriend would have had fun with us anyway. I know he is reading this, so I hope he realizes how sorry I am, but also that he wasn't missing out on much.

I was so peeved and stressed out from driving around, I was really craving a smoke. I asked Mr. Asshole and S if I could have once, since they both smoke. They both denied having any smokes. So I bummed one from a very nice stranger. I hope a bunch of really nice things happen to these strangers, because they were so nice to me. Anyway, later on in the evening, we were all on a rooftop bar, sitting at a table. The two men proceed to whip out their packs of cigarettes and light up. Right in front of me, without even offering me one. That was pretty much the last straw. I was done trying to be nice or join in.

Luckily, Mr. Asshole was tired, so we didn't stay out very late. I went to bed right when we got home which was around 2am, but they stayed up until God knows when, talking loudly and playing music. This made it very difficult for me to fall asleep. Keep in mind that the porch is right outside the living room, so poor Sammy was also kept up and didn't get any sleep. Then, as previously alluded, I was woken when the son had to get up for his baseball game at 8am. I fell back asleep and got up at 10am.

I was the only one awake and I was hungry, and knew there wouldn't be any food offered by the hosts, so I helped myself to some Cap'n Crunch. In fact, I had two bowls. I ate it outside so I could hang out with Sammy. I hope he crapped all over their yard. I hope it was runny, too. And I hope the kids tracked it inside. On the white carpet.

A little bit later, the kids and Mrs. Asshole got home from baseball. They are nice kids, so I don't know where they came from. Oh yeah. They had two different daddies, neither of which were Mr. Asshole. That explains it. They loved Sammy and played with him the whole time. I hope they nag their parents for a dog for months. Ha ha!

J&S got up soon after that and wanted Starbuck's, so we went to get it. We decided to take a detour and check out Folly Beach for a minute. Then we went back to the house. By this time, it is about 1pm. Everyone was getting ready to go to lunch and then hit the beach, and I informed J&S that I would not be accompanying them because I was going home after lunch. I wanted to tell The Assholes, but couldn't find them. So I went upstairs to take a quick shower and pack before hitting the road. I figured everyone was getting ready for the beach, so I had time. J came up to ask me what I was doing. It turns out that they were all waiting on me so they could go to the beach. If they had bothered to talk to me, they would have known that I was under the impression that I had lots of time. Apparently, I didn't, because J told me that everyone was waiting on me. So I come downstairs, dripping wet, no makeup on, carrying all my bags by myself. I felt terrible--the feeling that I'm keeping people is a very unpleasant one for me. Everyone is staring at me when I come outside to my car, and load up everything by myself while they watch.

I noticed that Sammy's bed was already in the car. "Hmmm...I don't remember putting that there," I said. S informed me that he had taken it upon himself to put that in the car earlier. Well, it doesn't get much clearer than that, now does it? I was not really welcome to stay. Talk about feeling like they were trying to get rid of me! I went around back to get Sammy. I said, "Sammy, let's get the f--k outta here!" and he gladly went with me to the car.

"So where are we eating for lunch?" I asked when I came back.

"Well, actually, it's getting so late, we are just going to go to Subway." was the reply.

"Oh. Okay. I'll just follow you guys there."

"Well, we were just going to get it and go. We weren't going to eat it there since it's so late now. We wanted to get to the beach a while ago."

Well, if someone had taken the time to talk to me today instead of putting my stuff in the car, I would have known that, I thought.

"You know what?" I said, voice trembling, "I'm just gonna go. I need to be back by dinnertime, anyway."

So I got in my car and left. No one even made sure I knew how to get home! I had to figure it out myself. I had to pull over to look at the map. And also because I was crying.

The worst part about it is, J did absolutely nothing to make my trip easier. I know she saw what was going on and could tell I was not having a good time. I felt totally betrayed. She didn't stick up for me once! Right before I left, I mentioned to her that Mr. Asshole in particular had been acting like I was a leper or something.

Thursday, May 04, 2006

No, I'm not at the bottom of the Savannah River. I can assure you I'm alive. Since I've been gone so long, I will try to sum up stuff using numbers and a list. I'm anal like that. This is more-or-less chronological. And way faster, trust me.

8-- the number of days it's been since I've posted.

2--the number of whole days I've worked this week.

1--the number of days I called in sick....you can draw your own conclusions on that one.

3-- the number of trips I will have taken in a two week period.

6--the number of hours of sleep I've had every night for...um, too long to count.

4.7 billion--the number of things I need to do yet cannot find time to do them. Coincidentally, this is also how much money I need to pay my bills because I am B-R-O-K-E. As in, oh shit, that's really all that's left? kind of broke. The not-funny kind.

1--the number of times I've forgotten to feed Sammy this week. Dinner at 11pm? He'll be alright!

30-- the number of minutes I needed to recover from leaving Sammy at the kennel for 5 days. I cried like a baby, y'all. It was pathetic. I couldn't finish sentences. I needed kleenex. And I missed him more than Repo! Shh! Don't tell him that.

0--the number of CDs I could listen to on the drive to Savannah. This is because there was no CD player in the company car. Yes, it was just as horrible as you can imagine. I almost died.

4-- the number of MASSIVELY HUGE boats I saw right out of my window at the Savannah hotel (Pictures forthcoming). They were so freakin' huge. It was really cool, trust me.

1-- the number of yummy meals I had in Savannah (Something is wrong. Seriously wrong.) Breakfast was the worst--dry muffins and a tiny bit of fruit. (Um, what?) This number doesn't include the yummy ice cream cone I had while walking around Savannah, window shopping.

1--the number of ghost stories I heard while eating at the haunted pirate restaurant. Let me just say that the waitress got a big tip from me for sharing it.

39--number of dollars my meal cost, complete with tip. Ouch. Luckily, I get most of that back as comp money. The pecan pie I had to pay on my own. And I'm ok with that.

1--The number of new job offers Repo got while I was gone. He will start in a hotel on May 15th. YAY!!! No more asshole bosses!!! Better hours and pay!!! YAY!!! No need to wear a bullet-proof vest to work!!! YAY!!

2--number of pirate-themed shirts I wanted to buy for Repo, but didn't. The shirts said: "The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves" and "Give Up the Booty". I love pirates. Arrrr! They shiver me timbers.

6--The number of reasons I want to go back to Savannah ASAP (Find better food, go on historic tour, go on ghost tour, take advantage of Repo's new hotel employee discount, sleep in AMAZING Hyatt hotel bed again, find a souvenier that doesn't suck.)

3--the number of librarians at the conference who were under the age of 40. This number includes yours truly. Only 2/3 of this population were people you would want to grab a beer with. Yes, I'm part of that group. Shut up. I'm cool.

2--the number of talks that were actually kinda interesting at the conference. Ok, not really. I mean, COME ON, it's a librarian conference! It was Yawn City.

Too many to count--The number of Fashion Police alerts. We went waaaaay beyond socks-with-sandals here, folks. And those tshirts with the gray kittens on them? That's kid stuff. Librarians, as a whole, wear industrial-strength dowdywear. Just...wierd outfits. So wrong. So incredibly wrong. I mean, who wears fluorescent orange mesh ballet flats? Shit, who would BUY fluorescent orange mesh ballet flats? I mean, would you go to whatever freak store sells them and say, "Now there's a great pair of shoes! I can wear them to my professional conference!" Jeez Louise.

1--the number of cross-dressing/trannie librarians at the conference. You can't make this stuff up, folks! It was a HE wearing a wig and a power suit. No makeup, hair removal, long nails, hormone replacement therapy or feminine jewelry. Very strange. I just kept wondering: So...is he trying to look like a girl? or not?

5--the number of stars I would give to the hotel. They rocked my socks. Best EVER service. I'm actually emailing them to thank them. [insert shock and awe here]

1--number of tricked-out redneck trucks with massively huge tires seen on drive home. (Again, pictures are coming). It was so obviously owned by white trash....I can't even get into it.

1-- the number of weddings I've been to lately.

4--the number of totally annoying and ridiculously procrastinating students that have bothered me while I'm trying to type this. *VB clenches teeth in sheer rage* Grrrr....semester....almost....over.

8--the number of people I knew at the wedding. 5 of them were girlfriends of mine. We were invited as moral support for Blonde. She finagled invites for us, even though it wasn't her wedding. It was her brother's wedding. We barely know him. But it was really nice of his bridezilla to invite us.

0--the number of times I had laid eyes on the bride prior to the wedding.

1-- number of nice things I'd heard about the bride prior to laying eyes on her.

3--the number of poster-sized prints of her wedding photos, displayed prominantly throughout the country club, which caused Brunette and I to either cringe or say "What...is she....doing...in this picture?"

200--approx. number of CDs burned by the couple as wedding favors for the guests. Aside from a few cheesy songs, it was actually a good CD. Lots of Motown. Probably the best wedding favor ever. Only a true Bridezilla could accomplish such a feat.

12--the number of bridesmaids. No joke.

2--the number of photos displayed at the reception which included the groom. This is out of about 35 pictures.

5:00--the time the wedding started. For real. It was on.the.dot. (Whose wedding starts on time??? She's bridezilla, I'm telling you.)

$20,000--estimated cost of ultra-posh wedding. Complete with band, buffet, 5-layered cake and open bar. For at least 6 hours. Because at midnight, I went home while they raged on.

2--the number of cigarettes I had at the wedding. (I blame my stupid biological clock. I was depressed! The bride was 24! I mean, seriously!!! I had no choice!)

1--number of people I was hoping wouldn't be at the wedding but were there anyway. It was W, a guy that apparently has a big crush on me. (Girlfriends teased me incessantly about this. I guess he just talks a mile a minute when around me, but is dead silent around everyone else. Whatever.) Nice guy, but I've always thought he was kinda boring. Not the funniest guy I've ever met. He used to live in my hometown, so we kind of bonded over that. We were sharing college stories when he informed me that he was a drug dealer while in college. I had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Seriously, if you saw him, you'd think he was Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. Two smokes--tobacco, not marijuana-- later, we had traded all our train-wreck online dating stories and I had given him the entire history of Me n Repo. Shit. I hate it when I do that. Must. Think. Private.

4--the number of people it took to sneak Blonde out of the wedding, Mission-Impossible style, so that her family wouldn't see how drunk she was.

3--the number of times she puked before passing out.

10--the number of incriminating photos Brunette and I took of her drunk ass.

30--the number of minutes it took to get Blonde out of her bridesmaid dress and into her clean pajamas. (Apparently, she will wear pjs once and consider them "dirty". She also gets really picky about this when she's drunk, leading her to sound rather demanding and bossy. Seriously, am I weird that I wear my pjs until they are so dirty that they can stand on their own? That is just too much laundry! And who has that many pjs?)

1--the number of 12-inch long rips she managed to tear in the lining of the dress before getting out of it.

2--the number of times I almost peed while all this was going on.

0--the number of showers I took before hitting the road to go home the next morning at 10:00 am. Bridezilla, true to form, made everyone wake up at 8:00am so we could see them leave for the honeymoon. If we didn't show at 8, we got no breakfast. I was a zombie. Who does this to their guests, anyway? It was like torture. I was grumpy to the extreme. And I smelled like party. Eww.

$20--the amount of money I owe Brunette from the trip. Crap. Have no money. This doesn't excuse me from paying her back. Crap.

$92--the amount of money I paid to the dentist today for my semi-annual check up.

1--the number of cavities I have. F--k!

$150--the cost to fill said cavity. "But it will be tooth-colored!" he said happily. Yeah, that helps, Dr. Dentist. Asswipe. I hate him. Ok, not really. He's pretty cool. I just hate my crappy insurance and genetics that caused me to inherit my mother's bizarrely deep tooth grooves that are just ripe for cavities.

1-- the number of friends coming to visit me tomorrow!

5--the number of years it's been since I've seen her!!!

13--the number of years I've known her!!!!

1--the number of boyfriends she is bringing with her so I can meet his about-to-propose ass!

1--the number of family reunions she has in Charleston this weekend. (I'm hanging out w/her here in Columbia tomorrow, then meeting her down in Isle of Palms for a Saturday-Day-Trip. Then I'll drive back Saturday night so she can attend her family reunion in Charleston. And yes, Sammy's going with me. It will be his first trip to the beach. Note to self: take pictures.)

Um, ok, I think that about wraps it up. Side bit of info: Repo has been super duper sweet to me lately. He either A) has my house bugged and knows how much I've been bitching about him lately, B) has paid off K to be an informant, C) can indeed read my mind telepathically or D) actually just likes being really sweet to me because now he's realized that showing emotion doesn't mean your penis will fall off!

*sigh* VB is happy. But busy. And broke. Sooooooo broke.

I'll email more next week. Sorry y'all. Gotta run. Have great weekends and I promise I'll catch up on reading blogs next week. I have to blog about my crazy neighbor, my 2nd job dilemma, Sammy's quirks and tell the tale of my most embarrassing moment ever. And post photos. Shit! I have too much to do...hang in there. It's going to be crazy.

About Me

I'm laid-back, outgoing, practical, high-energy, friendly and happy. Unless I haven't had my coffee. I enjoy meeting new people and learning new things and trying new activities (things that do not resemble camping or put me at risk for bodily harm, that is.) I'm opinionated and cynical and sarcastic, usually to a fault. I'm a little on the type-A side...but I'm honest and trustworthy and affectionate. I'm close to my family and friends. I try to be well-rounded and get the most out of living here while maintaining a sense of humor and looking for the ironies of life. I am currently trying to find my way and learn the ropes of being a full-time working mom and wife. It would be a lot easier if I didn't get myself into predicaments.